


my night inside your night

by ultraviolence



Series: the horror and beauty of your eyes burn between [vampire au] [3]
Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/Prototype: Fragments of Sky Silver, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biting, Blood Drinking, Confessions, Fade to Black, First Time, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Foreplay, Holding Hands, Kissing, M/M, Marking, Mystery, Neck Kissing, but stuff still going down yeeeee, how is this so pure when i originally want it to be as sinful as possible, i lied about smut and this being done in three parts OOP, i still maintain that they are idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 08:21:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19884547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultraviolence/pseuds/ultraviolence
Summary: The night after the incident in the ballroom, Arthur shows up on Lucius' doorstep with an apology...and an interesting invitation.AU. Part three of four.





	my night inside your night

**Author's Note:**

> I think I've been cursed because I keep saying that this is going to be the last part, but then I write things down and nothing go according to keikaku. Maybe it's instant karma since I made Arthur suffer so much and I'm [crying intensifies]. 
> 
> ANYWAY...I really do promise that the next part will be the last. For what it's worth HAHA. 
> 
> No warning in particular here, just a tiny mention of blood and suicide. Have to cut back on the smut because everything's getting _really_ long (weeps), but things still get...heated.
> 
> Alright, enjoy!

The dream visited him again that night.

He recognised it before it fully revealed itself—the fathomless, murky shapes, the ghosts in form of words, swimming just slightly out of reach, toying with his sight and memory, and the vague, pervasive sense of unease. An unfamiliar, uncharted sort of faint terror like an unknown melody plays in the background, pulsing in time with the shapes. He wasn’t one so easily frightened—he’d faced monsters before, and he was one of the few people in the world who knows for certain that they existed, that there is a layer underneath the sun-drenched world, a world inside the world where nightmares had real, concrete shapes—but something about this hellish, completely absurd dreamscape tells him that this is as far as the human mind could grasp.

Like before, the faint trickle of first light wakes him, and this time, he felt a strange sort of relief.

He couldn’t sleep again, so he reached for a cigarette and lighter and watched the sun rise.

* * *

Evening is as far away from the day as our galaxy is to its closest neighbour, or so it feels, but sooner than later the hazy, drowsy afternoon light fades into the familiar, cool shade of twilight as dusk falls and night spreads its somber wings upon the world, revealing the true, sunless nature of the universe. 

He was still eating dinner, thinking about how he should go about on solving what seemed to be like a revolving, endless pile of puzzling enigmas when he heard the knock on his door.

It sounded familiar, but he was quite certain that it was the servant who delivered him his food, perhaps forgetting something. Still, part of him hoped that it was someone else entirely, and it was this foolish, childish hope that sent him to the door so soon right after the knock.

Lucius opened the door, and opened his mouth as well to ask whoever’s behind it their business, but his words died in his throat as soon as he saw who it was.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said, standing behind the door, looking slightly nervous. “Am I interrupting something?”

“No, it’s just dinner,” he responded as soon as he overcame his initial surprise, immediately masking it. “Is this an urgent matter? I thought—“

“I’m sorry about yesterday night,” Arthur interjected, a first, and Lucius raised an eyebrow. The other man seemed to be oddly determined about it, so he leaned lightly on the doorframe, and waited for him to continue. “It…wasn’t supposed to end like that,” Arthur continued, mildly wincing at the words, averting his gaze. “I just…thought that it could have ended in a different note, that’s all,” he added, lamely, evidently pained by his own embarrassment that he tried very hard to hide, but unfortunately failed. “I don’t know if you’ll forgive me, but…”

Lucius waited until he’s done, letting the last word hang in the air for a bit. It was quite a sight too, he supposed, Arthur on his doorstep with an adorable attempt at apology, his cheeks all red, finding the floor to be a much more interesting sight than his curious, mildly amused gaze. It makes him want to gather him into his arms again, and steal a kiss, this time around.

He smiled, instead, still leaning on the doorframe, fixing his gaze on him.

“How would you prefer last night to end, Arthur?” He asked, casually. It was just so hard not to tease him, and Lucius wasn’t very good at holding back when it comes to temptations. “Since you mentioned that it could have ended differently.”

“Well, um…” Arthur started, but quickly trailed off into silence. Predictably, his blush deepened, and Lucius had to laugh. Arthur instinctively looked up at the sound of that and met his eyes, clearly mortified by this turn of events. “I- I don’t know,” he said, quickly, with a defensive edge to it, as if he was hiding something that had inevitably crossed his mind. He immediately avoided Lucius’ gaze again, shuffling nervously on his feet. “I just know that it could have ended differently, okay?”

“Okay,” he told him, accompanied by a small, amused laugh, and grinned. “Don’t worry, I forgive you,” he said, lightly touching Arthur’s chin, lifting it so their gazes meet properly. “Now, are you going to tell me why are you really here?” He gestured towards the piece of clothing that Arthur had been carrying on his arm. “I noticed that you’ve got something interesting there.”

“Oh, I- I want to show you something,” Arthur stammered, clearly taken off guard by the sudden touch. Lucius released his chin, and he let out a small sigh of relief. “I thought that I’d get you your coat first. Is that alright?” He asked, but quickly spoke again before Lucius could answer. “Or is- is this a bad time? I could come again after dinner if you’d like, or—“

“No, it’s fine,” he cuts him off, before Arthur’s nervousness could run its course. “Let me put it on and get my shoes, then we can be off.”

This seemed to reassure Arthur, and he nodded, satisfied.

“You can come in if you’d like,” Lucius told him, straightening up himself. Arthur seemed to momentarily forgot about his coat, but must have noticed Lucius’ glance, since he quickly handed it over to him. He accepted it with a smile. “I won’t be long.”

* * *

The walk took a curious direction.

He had rather predicted it, since Arthur had gotten him his coat beforehand, but it was still unexpected, in a sense that he did not predict Arthur to suddenly show up on his doorstep that evening—apology or no—much less with an intriguing proposition that seemingly had caused him a great deal of anxiety. 

Lucius remembered the way—it was the path that he took when he first arrived, only in reverse, as if he was replaying a story or, as if he was journeying back towards the upper world, from the blackened pits of hell—and at first, since the ballroom lies in the shadow of the grand stairs, he thought that they were going to go back there, but Arthur led him past the stairs and straight to the main entrance, slipping through the thick, hungry shadows gathering in front of the doors, and pulled them open, after first producing a key from the depths of his pocket, and sliding it into the keyhole.

The doors creaked open with a great sigh, something that he’d heard when he first entered the house, filling him with a sense of familiar dread. Somehow, he was half-expecting the sunlight to greet them.

But it was evening, the still-darkening sky above regarding them with a cool, subtle contempt, untouchable and incomprehensible in its distant, starry beauty, and the wind greeted them like an old friend would, by ruffling their hair and his coat lightly. Arthur took the first step forward, and he followed suit, leaving the shadows and their whispering, dreaming madness behind.

“Well,” Lucius started, while he was waiting for Arthur to close the doors behind him. “It’s rather chilly tonight, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps it’s going to rain later,” Arthur said in return, glancing at the sky for a moment before pulling the doors shut behind him, slipping the key back into his pocket. “But I don’t think we’re going to be away for long.”

“That’s a shame,” he mused, looking at the sky, but casually shot him a glance when Arthur arrived at his side. “I thought you’d finally agreed to my invitation for dinner.”

It was nothing but a playful tease, a casual, airy reminder of how their first night of tour had ended, without any malicious intent of any sort. He merely wanted to see how Arthur would react to it, now that some of his initial ice had melted away. 

“I can’t,” Arthur responded, his shoulders stiffening for a moment after Lucius’ words sinks in, but he immediately relaxed, although it was clear that he was consciously trying to hide his surprise. “And I’d really prefer if you don’t bring that up again. It’s much easier that way.”

“Before I ask why,” Lucius said, keeping his tone as light as possible, “I suppose you need this more than I do,” he slid off his coat, in one smooth move, immediately draping it around Arthur’s frame afterwards, carefully. They weren’t that much different in terms of build—though Arthur was a bit smaller and shorter than him, and were more on the slender side of things—and it fits him well, not so big that it dwarfed him, but not quite an exact fit, either. It was just right, and he couldn’t help but quirked a slight smile at the sight. 

“I’m- I’m fine,” Arthur protested, weakly, trying to push his hands away as he was putting the coat on him, but his fingertips accidentally brushed Lucius’, and that was apparently more than enough as a deterrent, since he immediately froze on the spot and didn’t put up any more resistance. “Really,” he insisted, shaking his head lightly, but Lucius ignored his protest. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

He took a step to the side, just enough to get a good look at Arthur, and smiled, admiring his handiwork.

“I think it looks good on you,” he told him with a chuckle. “You can keep it for the rest of the night if you’d like.”

“Fine,” Arthur huffed, clearly trying to regain his composure, and still failing. “But don’t be mad at me if you’re cold.”

“I’ll be fine,” Lucius said, perfectly aware that he should really stop teasing him, since at this point Arthur looked like he was about to spontaneously explode from embarrassment, his cheeks all red, but it was all too amusing, and he doesn’t really want to stop, not now. He was having too much fun. “But in case that did not convince you, how about this?” He took Arthur’s hand, gently, weaving their fingers together, then pulling him lightly to his side. “It’s quite an expensive coat, and you’re obviously an expensive sort of person, being a lord, so this way I won’t lose both of you, and I won’t really get cold.”

“I don’t get your logic _at all_ ,” Arthur managed, sounding equal parts baffled and somewhat amused, after another reasonable length of flustered silence, but he didn’t pull away, which Lucius took as a sign of agreement. “Let’s just go and put this matter at rest.”

It was something he could agree with, and they resumed their walk together, Arthur nudging him towards the direction that he wanted them to go. It seems like, with every step they took away from the house on the small, somewhat hidden path that Lucius had managed to miss when he first arrived (perhaps because he went straight to the front door), a great deal of burden had been lifted from Arthur’s shoulders, and, out here in the cool evening air, he seemed like a whole different person altogether—warmer, calmer, less rigid. The nervous air that he had on his person earlier—glancing around warily in the hallways, as if expecting something or someone to appear out of the shadows—was gone, too, replaced by a more relaxed, easygoing demeanour. 

He waited until the comfortable, companionable silence had settled down nicely between them before he asked him the question.

“I was wondering about something still,” Lucius remarked, shooting him a cool, measured glance, “I did mention earlier that I was going to ask about this. Why did you say that you can’t accept my invitation?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow. “Do you have something against dinner invitations? Would it be better if I asked you out to lunch instead?”

He kept his tone light and unassuming, wanting to see how Arthur would have responded to this. Arthur stopped on his tracks immediately afterwards, prompting Lucius to stop as well, since their hands are still intertwined, and from the way his brow creased, it looks like he was thinking deeply about it, trying to form a reasonable answer.

Or a believable lie. Lucius fixed his gaze on him.

“I know you’d ask that sooner or later,” Arthur says, calmly, but Lucius could sense the undertone of nervousness that permeates his words, snaking through them like veins. “Lunch would actually be worse, actually,” he continued, somewhat jokingly, but it was evident that he was hiding something. “I don’t think I could turn you down politely if you asked me that.”

“Why?” He persisted, carefully observing Arthur’s expression before dropping the next question. “It has something to do with the rules, no? I was told that wandering the house before sundown was forbidden,” he paused, trying to read the other man’s face, but it was closed off from him, aloof, unreadable. “Was it the same for you or…is there something that prevented you from going out before the sun goes down?”

“I’m not really supposed to tell you,” Arthur answered, slowly, as if he was still chewing the questions and mulling them over in his mind, turning them around, over and over again. “But I- I have a…certain condition,” he said, quickly, looking away. “Think of it as an illness, if you’d like. It’s why I never leave the house, not anymore.”

That still left certain things unanswered, but Lucius didn’t want to push him too hard. It was…certainly an interesting way to put it, he thought, but he’s leaving it alone…for now. 

“And your sister?” He continued, coolly, keeping his own emotions well-hidden, “did she…possess the illness, too?”

“She takes care of me,” Arthur simply said, mirroring Lucius’ unemotional, reserved look, but the fact that he bit his lip for a single brief moment before answering did not escape Lucius’ attention. “She keeps me safe. We’ve only had each other now, after all. Well, since father left on his journey, anyway.”

It sounded like he was trying to convince himself instead of the one he was speaking to, and parts of it feels rehearsed, as if he had said it a thousand times before, but was still trying to get it right. Lucius didn’t buy it, not for a second, and he was about to ask him about the rules next, but Arthur had spoken again before he could.

“Let’s forget about this,” Arthur said, and resumed walking, tugging on his hand playfully. Lucius had no choice but to follow suit, letting Arthur drag him forward by the hand. “We’re almost there. If we keep stopping we’ll never get there,” Arthur pointed out, glancing at him with a small smile. “Don’t you want to see our secret destination, Lucius?”

“Why don’t you just tell me where we’re going?” He asked, faking a displeased expression. He still wanted to ask him questions—he was close on getting answers, or at least approximations of things, that he could speculate on—but it was hard not to play along, especially since Arthur looked so excited now.

“It wouldn’t be a surprise anymore if I just told you, right?” Arthur told him with a slight grin. Another first, Lucius thought, and wished that he could immortalise the sight somehow, in another way beside memory, because memories are unreliable, and fade with time, leaving only the ghost of a ghost behind, a cold reminder of the ephemeral nature of things. “You’ll see in a bit. I promise it’d be worth the wait.”

“I believe you,” he said, and surprisingly, he meant it.

Something between them had shifted, intangible and irreversible, yet the fact that it happened was a certainty that was hard to dispute, an event that was as concrete and in some ways as palpable as the eternal movements of the planets in the cold heavens above. 

This time, he felt strangely glad that he’d intentionally left his weapon—and the inherentcoldness it possessed—behind, in his room.

* * *

The stars seemed to greet them when they arrived in their destination—he had seen a number of them from the moment that they stepped out of the house, and along the way, but now there are more of them, distant points of light in the velvet tapestry of the sky, like tiny, far-flung lighthouses—and out here, the night sky seemed enormous, almost ominous in its crepuscular majesty, like an all-seeing eye, or a beast, hunching over the world. 

The path took them to a garden, not like the one the house contained, but a _real_ one, with meandering paths, forgotten statues, and gentle, rolling grass. In the distance, he could see the house, sitting forlornly as in a dream, waiting to be woken up. It was hard to tell what’s beyond the garden—it was both the beginning and the end of the world, or so it seemed—but he doesn’t have time to ponder on the question for too long, since Arthur had already pulled him into the nearest pathway.

The idea was something akin to a maze, he supposed, although instead of hedges, the walls on their sides are made of tastefully-painted bricks, and they weren’t everywhere, only appearing in certain bends, obscuring their view just enough to kindle their curiosity with regards of what comes next.

It was picturesque, and well-kept besides. Even if Lucius doesn’t consider himself to be a sentimental man, he still appreciates beautiful things, and it was certainly something, to walk in a beautiful garden under the moonlight, with an equally beautiful man by his side. 

The fact that their hands are still entangled together was a very nice bonus, and it brings him a certain kind of satisfaction.

“Was this the other thing that your mother left behind?” He asked, slowly breaking the pleasant silence that accompanies them as they walk, leisurely, as if they were lovers, with all the time in the world.

“Yes,” Arthur responded, seemed to be lost in thought. “You remembered what I told you,” he added, glancing at him with a small smile. “It’s been a long time since I was here. I wasn’t supposed to, but I thought that you needed to see it, since this was technically part of the estate,” he elaborated, and Lucius thought that he saw a defiant, yet private smile, crossed his lips for a brief moment. “It’s not really breaking the rules. I asked Morgan to keep the gardener around. I’m glad she kept her word.”

The evening air was cool, with a hint of autumn in the air, and the faint moonlight wrapped its ethereal fingers around everything, as always, transforming the garden into a mythical place, a faraway, secluded kingdom that belongs to the two of them alone, stretching into eternity. It was easy to believe that, under this light.

It was easy to believe anything, under this light.

“It’s beautiful,” Lucius said, finally, deliberately stopped walking. The moonlight beckons them to turn to another corner, just so, like faerie light, but he had something more important in mind. “But it’s about time that you forget the rules, don’t you think? There are so many of them,” he smiled, languidly, pulling Arthur closer, wrapping his arm around his waist, like the night before. “Aren’t you curious about some things?”

“Like what?” Arthur voiced, only slightly confused, but mostly flustered by their sudden closeness, looking up at him. Lucius ran a finger along his bottom lip, slowly, before he tilted up his chin, bringing their lips close together.

“Like this one,” he whispered, suppressing an amused laugh, grazing Arthur’s lips lightly with his. He pressed his lips to his, softly at first, waiting for him to part his lips, and when he does, Lucius deepened the kiss. Arthur kissed him back, hesitatingly, and Lucius noted with some amount of pleasure that he was gripping the front of his shirt, clinging to him like he was his lifeline, or the last man in the world. It was certainly a curious, novel sensation, something that could only herald the beginning of a new addiction, and he kissed him until he ran out of breath, and even then, Lucius was reluctant to let go.

“That was good, wasn’t it?” He remarked, with a cocky smile. “You could use some practice, but I’m absolutely up for that. There will be no accidental foot-stomping this time, I promise.”

“Will you stop teasing me?” Arthur sighed, though his expression darkened for a moment. “For the record, you stepped on my foot more times than I stepped on yours yesterday night.”

“Ah, but now it doesn’t matter, does it?” Lucius said, accompanied by a triumphant grin. “I’m evidently a better kisser than you, and that means I have to take you under my wing and teach you.”

“I- I’m not sure if we should,” Arthur expressed, pulling his hands away from Lucius’ shirt. He felt guilty, that much is clear, but Lucius could sense the undercurrent of other, darker things, doubts that he did not want to express or perhaps even acknowledge. “You’re supposed to be our substitute lawyer, and—“

“Don’t think about it too much,” he interjected, disentangling the smaller man from him for a bit, only to nudge him towards the nearest wall. Arthur seemed to be much too surprised to resist—or much too embarrassed still, after the kiss—and Lucius had him pressed against it soon enough. 

“You need to let loose for a bit,” he told him, seizing Arthur’s wrists, and pinning them on either side of his hips on the wall. “Though, I like it when you’re being uptight, even if you’re actually just shy,” he said, letting his gaze slide down from Arthur’s face to his body, undressing him with his eyes. His own coat on him was a nice touch, and the blush gracing his cheeks was as lovely as the moonlight. “I found that to be frustratingly cute,” he leans in now, close enough to whisper the words in Arthur’s ear, teasing his earlobe with his breath and lips. He could feel him, tilting his hips in his direction, rubbing himself against him instinctively, and Lucius nipped his earlobe, hearing the small hitch in Arthur’s breath, and the suppressed whimper that follows. The desperation in it was so obvious, that he had to stop and smirk. 

“And you’re secretly really desperate to please, aren’t you?” He whispered, pressing his lips to the side of his face, kissing the line of his jaw. “Now that _is_ ridiculously sexy,” Lucius pulled back, only so he could grin at him. “I like you, Arthur. Aren’t you going to stop pretending too?”

“I- I don’t know,” Arthur managed to say, after a moment of awkward, mortified silence, and he looked away for a moment, before he found the courage to look Lucius in the eye again. “I’m not sure I understand what you were trying to say, but…” he bit his lip, clearly having a difficult time putting his feelings into words. 

“Well, I can help you figure it out,” Lucius told him, nonchalantly, taking the chance to steal another kiss from his lips. “And if you don’t like it, we can stop. What do you think?”

“…yes,” Arthur said, tentatively. “I think I’d like that.”

It was more than enough, and Lucius gave him a satisfied smile, pressing his lips to his neck afterwards, teasing him again with his breath and lips, liking the way Arthur shivered under his touch, and the small hitch in his breath that he’d heard earlier.

He landed another kiss on his lips, feeling him squirm against his body, trapped between him and the wall.

“Let’s not do this here,” Arthur says, suddenly, deliberately avoiding the next kiss by turning his face to the side. “We should go back instead, find a proper place.”

“Perhaps in your room?” Lucius suggested with a roguish smile, tilting his head slightly to a side. “That should be appropriate, shouldn’t it?”

“Not there,” Arthur answered, his expression darkening once more. But, like before, it doesn’t last long, and he quickly regained his composure. “Maybe yours, if you don’t mind.”

“We have a deal,” he told him, letting go of his wrists. “Let’s go.”

* * *

The walk back to the house felt like a blur, and yet at the same time, it felt like an eternity had passed. It was like a dream, and yet one that was inside another dream—the partially-hidden gravel path, the glimmering stars above, the slow dying of the season in the air. They made small talk, every now and then, but it was all too forgettable, too superficial, and for the most part, they merely huddled together and hurried along the path, as if they were after some great secret, and was about to make a breakthrough. 

He’d never thought that he would be glad to see the house, but he does, and after they went inside, he was about to pull him in for a quick kiss, but Arthur gave him a look of silent reproach, and reached for his hand instead, leading him down the now-familiar hallway.

The room was just as he left it—slightly messy with a hint of leftover cigarette smoke in the air—though someone had carted the half-eaten dinner away, and Arthur lets go of his hand once they were inside. Lucius closed the door behind him, discreetly, watching the other man as he gave the rest of the room a cursory glance. 

“Does it always smell like this?” Arthur expressed, wrinkling his nose slightly. “I don’t remember it being this bad when I was here earlier. Did you really smoke this much?”

“Just because I have nothing better to do,” Lucius retorted, wrapping his arms around him from behind, landing a light kiss on the nape of his neck. “It’s not like you’re around during the day, though I can make do with my fantasies.”

“…did you?” Arthur said, and he kissed him there one more time, committing his scent to memory, before pulling him over to the bed and on to his lap. “Fantasise about this before?”

“If you mean about you, then yes,” he told him, honestly, accompanied with a small chuckle. He pushed his coat aside—still wrapped around Arthur’s frame loosely—carefully, before he let it slid down to the floor. “But I’d say the reality is much better,” he regarded him with a smile, reaching for the buttons on Arthur’s suit jacket. 

“I’m not sure how you can admit that with a straight face,” Arthur muttered, blushing once more, but he helped him undo the buttons, guiding Lucius’ fingers to his tie next. “And honestly…I’m still not sure if we should do this.”

“Why not?” He challenged, with a cocksure smirk, hooking his fingers on his tie and pulling him closer by it, kissing him on the lips passionately. “After being cooped up in this place for so long, I’d say, why not? What do you have to lose?”

This seemed to set Arthur’s mind into thinking, since a thoughtful look crossed his face, but it wasn’t hard to distract him with another kiss, and soon enough, Arthur allowed himself to relax and lose himself in it, returning his kiss. Lucius busied himself with Arthur’s shirt, after he’d loosened his tie, unbuttoning it slowly.

“I should tell you something before we go any further, though,” Lucius said, breaking the kiss that Arthur was pressing on his lips. He paused for a moment before continuing, regarding the other man in his half-undone state with an enigmatic smile, mostly for dramatic effect than anything else. “I know your secret, Arthur. Your…so-called condition. I know the true nature of it,” he remarked, touching his chin gently. It was possible that he was going to flinch at his touch or even pull away after the revelation, after all. “In another words: I know what you are.”

It was as he’d expected—Arthur flinched, but didn’t shy away from his touch. Instead, after the initial surprise, a wary look crossed his face, and his eyes hardened. It was a familiar expression, one that he’d seen before, and Lucius regarded it coolly. 

“How did you know?” Arthur demanded, an interesting turn, but he gave him a slow, calm smile, resting a hand on his cheek. He felt the other man lean in to his touch, still, though evidently, he tried not to show it. “And how did I know you’re not lying?”

“Well, let’s just say…that you’re not the only one with a secret here,” Lucius told him, caressing his cheek, before pulling his face closer. “I’m not exactly who I told you I am,” he added, kissing him full on the mouth, biting Arthur’s bottom lip lightly. “Now that you know that I have lied to you and taken advantage of your hospitality, would you still like to continue?”

The question was for Arthur’s convenience, though he can quite predict how he would react—the fury comes first, of course, lending his eyes and the rest of his features a different kind of light, then the confusion and the doubt, all warring with each other.

“You have a lot of explaining to do, Lucius,” he finally said, with a sigh, shaking his head slightly. “But that can wait. We have more important things to think about right now.”

“Spoken like a true lord,” he remarked, with a small chuckle, fingering the last button on Arthur’s shirt momentarily, before unbuttoning it. “Well, since we got that out of the way, I guess it’s time to tell you that you’re welcome to take a bite out of me, if you’d like,” he teased, pushing aside Arthur’s shirt, revealing the pale flesh beneath, admiring it for a moment before he slid it down his shoulders, just enough to let it pool beneath his elbows. “I’m sure I’d taste much better than whoever you’ve drank out of before.”

“You really _are_ full of yourself,” Arthur sighed, again, trying to hide his embarrassment. “I don’t know why I agreed to this.”

“Because you liked me too, obviously,” Lucius joked, pressing a kiss on his neck, tonguing and nibbling it lightly, feeling Arthur tilting his neck back in response, exposing his throat to him. He guided Arthur’s hand to his own suit jacket. “You did blush a lot. Is this your first time?”

“N- no, not really,” Arthur responded, awkwardly. Lucius bit his throat, lightly, enough to leave a mark, and he let out a small noise of protest. “I- I don’t think…I’ve never been with another man before,” he admitted, still awkwardly, but Lucius thought that it was cute.

He slid off Arthur’s shirt, letting the dark blue fabric join his own coat on the floor, and pushed the other man off his lap and down to the bed. He climbs on top of him, pinning Arthur’s wrists on either side of his head.

“Just relax,” he told him, giving Arthur a slight yet playful smile. “You’re doing great. I’ve never been with your kind before, either, you know,” Lucius said, slowly, teasingly. “I know very well that the undead bit is pretty much a myth now, but is there anything else I should know about?”

He landed a kiss on his lips before Arthur could answer, and let go of one of his wrists, bringing it to his lips. He kissed that wrist, lightly at first, tenderly, before biting it, leaving an angry red mark behind, matching the one he left on his throat earlier. Arthur tried to hold back his moan, but it escaped his lips anyway.

“I don’t think so,” Arthur finally said, in the aftermath, a little breathlessly. “Unless you count my inexperience,” he added, under his breath, but Lucius heard it, and laughed.

“Don’t worry, I promise I will take good care of your innocence,” he said, grinning down at him. “It’s lovely.”

He lifted Arthur’s wrist to his lips again, idly leaving another mark, then grazed his lips with his, one more time, kissing him lightly, helping him undo the rest of his own buttons.

“One more thing,” Arthur suddenly said, pushing him aside lightly/. Lucius looked at him curiously, willing him to continue with the silent question in his eyes. “You’re not going to hurt me, aren’t you?”

It was certainly a curious question to ask, accompanied by an oddly serious, haunted look, which made it clear that Arthur wasn’t teasing him or joking in any way. 

“No, I’m not,” he responded, puzzled by this sudden change of expression, and felt the strange sort of concern he felt towards him yesterday resurfacing. “Unless you want me to,” he added as an afterthought, playfully. 

“No, don’t,” Arthur immediately said, the urgency in his tone made Lucius took notice. It was another strange piece of the puzzle he’s trying so solve, he thought. “Please don’t. Promise me.”

“I won’t,” he told him, taken off-guard by the sudden burst of vulnerability. There was a terrible look in his green eyes, a fearful, haunting look, as if he was trying to tell him something that has happened before, and Lucius reflexively leaned down, giving him a soft kiss on the lips, wrapping his arms around him. “I promise.”

“Thank you,” Arthur said, satisfied, returning his embrace, pulling Lucius close to kiss him on the cheek. “You’re all clear now.”

Now it was _his_ turn to receive an impromptu blush, and he heard Arthur laugh, his fingers brushing his shirt, gently pushing it aside to touch his now-exposed chest.

Lucius pushed him back to kiss him, feeling Arthur’s lips meeting his halfway.

The night, after all, had turned into something unforgettable.

* * *

Later, they lie in bed together, Arthur beside him, his head resting on his chest, their clothes scattered on the floor and on the bed, a familiar kind of chaos. A comfortable sort of silence alighted and settled between them, and, for a moment, it was as if everything else doesn’t exist—not the shadows outside the room, always pacing and waiting, not the night sky, impenetrable and mysterious, not even the sense of overarching, creeping doom, as if something terrible is waiting to happen, lurking just outside of his peripheral vision.

It was _nice_ , he supposed—strangely so—in the broadest sense of the word, and different. Unlike Arthur, this wasn’t his first time—he’d had a number of lovers before, though all of them were humans—but it was certainly the first time that he felt different, changed. 

This wasn’t just a fling. It couldn’t have been.

“Did it help?” Lucius asked, lazily entangling his fingers in Arthur’s hair, caressing it lightly. The blond locks were soft, and they yielded to his touch readily. “I mean, this. Help you figure things out, how you feel. You know what I mean.”

“I guess so,” Arthur replied, after a brief pause, shifting slightly. “I’m still not sure how I feel about you lying in order to sleep with me, but it was nice,” he said, though somewhat jokingly, absently touching Lucius’ cheek, the merest brush of his fingertips still managed to make his heart flutter, as if they were teenagers, seeing each other in secret. “I think I like you,” he added, softly, resting his hand on his cheek. “I’ve never…well, I always thought that what I wanted doesn’t really matter, since I was raised to fulfil a certain role, but you proved it wrong. Perhaps my wishes matter after all,” he admitted, pausing for a moment. “For that…thank you, Lucius.”

He sounded nearly sad when he said that, as if he was saying goodbye. Lucius stroked his hair for a moment longer, before resting his own hand on top of Arthur’s.

“It wasn’t technically lying in order to get into bed with you,” he pointed out with a smirk, absently playing with his hand. “Though that was a nice bonus. And hearing you admit that you liked me too is just the cherry on top.”

He liked teasing Arthur just a little bit too much, he decided, pressing a kiss on his hand, tilting his head slightly just so he could watch him blush. 

“…then what are you really after?” Arthur said, trying to hide the fact that he really did start blushing again. “I think now is a good time as any to start explaining, unless you want me to kick you out just about now.”

“That’s just cold,” Lucius told him, suppressing a laugh. He released Arthur’s hand, ruffling his hair affectionately, before wrapping a protective arm around him. “I gave you the best night you’d ever had, and then you’d just kick me out? I thought you’d never have the heart to do such a thing.”

“I’m serious,” Arthur retorted, but weakly, letting himself being pulled closer. “I did say that you have a lot of explaining to do.”

“Your father,” Lucius started, pausing momentarily beforehand. “I wasn’t lying when I said that I know your lawyer. I’ve heard about your father before, whispers of him, here and there, and I’ve decided that this is a matter worth looking into, so I’ve…arranged…a little something to happen to your lawyer. He’s going to be fine, don’t worry,” he quickly added, feeling a glare coming his way, even if Arthur’s head is still pressed on his chest. “It’s nothing major. I’ve convinced him afterwards that I’m the man for the job of bringing you his deceased client’s wish. The rest is history, as you know.”

“What did you heard about my father?” Arthur questioned, abruptly afterwards, lifted his head so their gazes could meet. He could be just as demanding as his sister, Lucius thought, remembering the way she looked at him the first night they met, in the dining room. 

“That he was trying to do something impossible,” he answered, meeting Arthur’s unrelenting gaze head-on. “A cure for something irreversible,” Lucius added, idly running a finger on the line of Arthur’s jaw.

He looked beautiful like that, haloed by the artificial light that illuminated the room, his golden hair seemed to shine along with the light, a thoughtful look on his face. The marks Lucius had left earlier on Arthur’s body with reckless abandon was like tiny red constellations on his flesh, and it was hard to believe that this man before him—who looked more like an angel or something holy than anything else—was supposed to be his enemy, his quarry. Lucius cupped his face with his hands, pulling him closer for a kiss, and Arthur yielded, kissing him back.

“He became obsessed with the occult after he found out about it,” Arthur said, after the kiss. There was an underlying tone of bitterness to his voice, but also something like wistfulness, like regret and a smattering of guilt that could only be felt by a child who was left behind before his time. “Then he left. He said that he was going to find a cure,” he continued, his eyes distant. “But then we receive the news that he’d killed himself.”

“I don’t think the last part was true,” Lucius told him, thoughtfully. “I did my own research before I came here. Uther Pendragon was a lot of things, but foolish doesn’t seem to be one of them,” he said. “I think something happened to him.”

A pregnant silence passes between them, as the implications of his words slowly sinks in, and Arthur pulled away, lost in thought.

“What do you mean?” He asked, sounding genuinely confused, though he tried to hide it. “Are you saying that somebody killed him?”

“Not somebody, some _thing_ ,” Lucius remarked, calmly. “I have reasons to believe that. Do you remember the will, Arthur? How it was barely legible towards the end?”

“I do, yes,” Arthur responded, furrowing his brow. “I thought that it was probably a mistake. Or that his mind is simply coming apart at the seams. He did take his own life, after all.”

“It might be, and that might simply be the case, but you know him better than I do. Don’t you think it’s odd?” He pressed, the memories of the dreams surfacing from the dark recesses of his mind, unknown leviathans swimming in the deep. “That he would just off himself like that? What if he stumbled upon something that he wasn’t supposed to?”

“What are you suggesting?” Arthur said, clearly puzzled by the direction that the conversation is taking, but morbidly intrigued at the same time, leaning closer. “Are you saying that he did find a cure?”

“Perhaps, but there are other possibilities as well,” Lucius shrugged, pulling him in for a soft, quick kiss on the lips. “The world is full of strange and terrible things after all, and a beautiful, immortal, blood-drinking creature of the night is the least of it.”

“Do you have to turn everything into a bad pickup line?” Arthur grumbled, but returned his kiss with another one, positioning himself on top of him, his hands on either side of Lucius’ head. “Is there a quota you needed to fill, or something? Would it kill you not to ruin the moment just once?”

“It’s hard when you’re so distracting,” he told him with a laugh, enjoying how he looked on top of him, wrapping his arms around his waist loosely. “I’m thinking you should really come with me. We could figure that out together, too. You’re wasted in this decrepit old place,” Lucius continued, watching Arthur blush once more. Arthur was about to say something, but he wasn’t finished, and he distracted him with yet another kiss, sliding his tongue into Arthur’s mouth just enough to elicit a small sound of muffled protest. 

“All that left one lingering question, though,” he resumed, pushing the other back a little, so he could look him in the eye. “Who did this to you? Who turned you? I know it’s possible for some poor sod to accidentally did it to himself, provided one has enough misfortune and the wrong spell or two, but I don’t think that’s what happened to you. Who bit you?”

“…I should leave now,” Arthur sighed, and it was clear that he did not want to talk about the matter further. “Still, I don’t think this would hurt,” he muttered, before leaning down, kissing Lucius full on the lips. “Maybe just a little, but I promise I won’t go overboard,” he smiled a little when he broke the kiss, a playful one, before pressing a kiss on his neck.

Lucius felt his tongue then, teasing him, tasting him, mapping his flesh, an amateur cartographer on his breakthrough trip in a new, uncharted territory. He knows what Arthur is going to do, but he lets him, tilting his head back, exposing his throat for him. He heard the hitch in his own breath, his grip on Arthur’s waist tightening, and he felt the prick of his teeth, breaking the fragile protection of his skin. 

He instinctively wanted to push him away at first, his survival instincts kicking in, but he willed himself not to, focusing on gripping Arthur’s waist instead, scratching it lightly. It did, as Arthur told him, hurt a little, and Lucius couldn’t help but feeling that something important is being taken away from him, bit by bit, but there was a strange sort of pleasure in that too. It wasn’t quite a sexual experience, at least not strictly so, but when Arthur pulled away—after what feels like an eternity even though it only lasted for a short moment—he found himself going hard again for him, though there was a curious sort of desperate emptiness underlying it. 

It was like being waken up abruptly from a pleasant dream, and knowing that the dream would never return.

“There,” Arthur said, sounding satisfied, licking his lips. “That was what you wanted, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Lucius told him, as a matter-of-fact, grabbing him by the hair, kissing him roughly. He tasted his own blood on Arthur’s lips, a lingering, overpowering metallic tang, overcoming his senses, but it turned him on even more, and he reached down between Arthur’s legs, but the other man caught his wrist.

“I’m sorry, but I really can’t stay,” he regretfully said, shaking his head lightly, and pulled away, disentangling himself from Lucius.

“Not even for a second round? I promise it’d be even better than the first,” Lucius teased, but didn’t do anything to pull him back, instead watched as Arthur picked up his scattered pieces of clothing and started to dress.

“No,” Arthur responded, stopping only long enough to give him a brief, sideways smile, both regretful and secretive, fingering the buttons on his dress shirt nervously. “I think…it would be best if you leave,” he added, and the strange underlying sadness that Lucius had heard earlier slipped back into his voice, unbidden. “Tomorrow, in the morning. No one’s going to stop you. Just drive in the direction of the nearest town, and then on to London,” he continued, pulling on his trousers, and on to his belt. “It’ll be fine. I’ll tell Morgan you have an urgent business to attend to.”

He listened to him, more amused than puzzled, watched as Arthur carefully knotted his tie, his composure calm, but his tone before betrayed his true feelings.

“You know I’m not just going to run away like that, right?” Lucius pointed out, casually, accompanied with a confident smirk. “I haven’t found all my answers yet. And I’m not going to just leave you here.”

“I know nothing I say will change your mind this time, either, so suit yourself,” Arthur told him, smoothing his clothes, before reaching for his suit jacket on the floor. “It was merely a suggestion, but it’s best if you follow it.”

“If I didn’t,” Lucius started, slowly, silently willing Arthur to stay a bit longer, “where will I find you, tomorrow evening?”

“Upstairs,” Arthur answered, after a brief amount of surprised silence. “But be careful. Goodbye, Lucius.”

A sad smile accompanied his words, and he lingered on the door momentarily, casting one last glance around the room—and to Lucius, still lying on the bed, evidently committing it to memory. 

“Goodnight, Arthur,” Lucius merely said, his smile anything but a farewell. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Then Arthur opened the door and left, leaving him alone with the ever-encroaching shadows and memories of his skin in the night, a radiance slowly fading into the distance, like a figure walking deeper into the velvet dark, receding with every step it takes.

Perhaps tomorrow will reveal the answers to the mystery, at long last.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, comments & suggestions are welcome! <3


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